


Unbound

by electricshoebox



Series: Unbound [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricshoebox/pseuds/electricshoebox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke is gravely injured in the battle with the Arishok, and it shakes Fenris to the core. As he stays to watch over Hawke (with some gentle encouragement from Orana), he begins to question his decision to leave him, and reflect on the reasons he’s kept them apart. Maybe freedom isn’t exactly what he thought it was. (Using my mage Hawke, Daniel)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unbound

**Author's Note:**

> I realize I shift between Hawke’s first and last name a lot, but I wanted the name changes to follow Fenris’s thoughts and the distance (or not) between them, as Fenris feels it in that moment. 
> 
> Also, I've been replaying the game recently, and getting ideas for stories as I go, centered around the relationship between my Hawke and Fenris. I'm contemplating doing a series of ficbits about them.

“It appears Kirkwall has a new Champion.”

For one long moment Daniel Hawke stood, solid, grim, blessedly _alive_. He stood as Meredith and Orsino turned away, as the cheering nobles left the hall one by one. He stood until the last person disappeared down the hall.

Fenris was the first to see his knees buckle.

Before anyone knew the elf had moved, Fenris was clutching Hawke in his arms. He could feel the mage shaking under his robes, then beginning to still.

“Get the healer!” Fenris screamed. “Somebody get that damn healer!”

Someone ran past him. The blurred shapes of his friends began to shift. Fenris did not pause to watch. He stared down at the man crumpled in his arms. “You stupid fool,” he growled against Hawke’s ear, though it sounded more like a whimper. “Always have to be strong, never showing weakness until it nearly gets you killed...”

“Look... who’s... talking,” Hawke gasped out, making a choked sound Fenris realized was supposed to be a laugh. The elf’s grip tightened, unconsciously. Hawke’s head slumped forward.

“Get the healer!” Fenris cried again.

“He’s coming, Fenris.”

Aveline’s voice calmed him slightly as she knelt down next to him. She reached for Hawke’s arm and pressed her fingers to his wrist, then said, “He’s still got a pulse. We should get him to his house. I don’t know that it’s best to move him, but--”

Fenris was lifting Hawke into his arms before Aveline could finish. The mage’s head fell onto Fenris’s shoulder, his body limp.

“Hawke,” Fenris hissed as they hurried to the door. “Hawke... Daniel... you _fight_ , do you hear me?” _I cannot lose you._

“He’ll make it, Fenris,” Aveline said. Fenris kept his eyes on the door.

 

* * * * * * *

 

“I can’t help him if you’re under foot growling at me. Get out and let me work!”

Anders slammed Hawke’s bedroom door, and Fenris gritted his teeth, pounding his fist against the wall. The others had already gone, promising Bodahn they’d return the next day. The hall had fallen eerily silent, except for Prince’s nervous pacing and whining downstairs. Fenris could faintly hear Bodahn trying to soothe the mabari.

He did not know how long he stood there, fist to the wall. His mind was blank save for the mantra of _please don’t let him die_ , repeated endlessly to whatever divine thing might be listening. He only roused when he felt a light touch on his arm. He tensed and jumped back, his lyrium tattoos flaring to life. Their blue glow lit up the frightened face of Orana, who stumbled backward. Water splashed to the ground from a bowl in her hands.

Fenris straightened, his arms dropping to his sides. He choked out her name, looking awkwardly at her feet. “I... my apologies.”

“I didn’t mean to startle you, messere,” she squeaked, adjusting her grip on the bowl. “I thought perhaps you might wish to wash?”

Fenris looked up and followed her gaze to his armor. Only now did he realize blood caked his arms and chest plate, even staining the tunic beneath. His eyes widened a little and a wave of nausea swept over him. _Daniel..._

“Oh... I... forgive me... I... thank you,” he finally stammered out.

“It’s no trouble at all, messere!” Orana brightened, setting the bowl on the end table next to her and holding out a cloth for him. He reached for it, cursing his shaking hands.

Orana watched as Fenris slid his gauntlets off and unbuckled his armor, washing them carefully and then cleaning his arms and hands. Her gaze eventually made his skin prickle uncomfortably.

“You... you do not need to wait.”

“Oh... o-of course,” she began to step away. “Shall I prepare you a room?”

Fenris looked up quickly. “W-what? I... that is, I should probably...” he looked back at the bedroom door, hesitating.

“Begging your pardon, ser...” Orana said quietly, drawing his attention back to her, “If you... would allow me to say...”

“Speak your mind freely,” Fenris said, harsher than he meant to.

Orana nodded, but dropped her gaze to the floor. “I think... that Master Hawke would wish you to stay.”

When Fenris didn’t speak, Orana stammered on, “I... I don’t wish to... it’s only... Master Hawke seems often sad, or worried. He has so many cares. And he will smile and welcome everyone who comes to visit him as if he has none, but... it is only when you visit... that the weight seems really to lift from him, for awhile. And when you go, he seems... sadder than before. I just thought... he would wish you to stay.”

Fenris stared at her, robbed of words. She shifted from one foot to the other, then bowed her head again. “B-begging your pardon--”

“Thank you.”

Orana raised her eyes. Fenris was not certain what his expression was, but whatever she saw made her smile warmly. She started to reach out, but then stopped, glancing at the wall where he’d jumped away from her earlier. She clasped her own hands together instead. “Would you like that room, then, messere?”

“No, I... I shall stay near him.”

Fenris said it automatically, then blinked in surprise at himself a moment later. Orana simply continued to smile. “Very good, ser.”

Hawke’s bedroom door swung open then. Anders emerged, sparing a moment to curl his lip at Fenris before turning to Orana. “Hawke is very weak. I’ve given him something to keep him sleeping for the night. He'll need plenty of bed rest, but he’ll be all right. He’ll need to be given -- he needs to sleep, Fenris, leave him be!”

Fenris ignored him, moving straight for the door as soon as Anders promised Hawke would live. He heard the healer curse him, then apologize to Orana and resume his instructions. Fenris kept his eyes on Hawke, and hovered near the bed as he took in the sight. The mage’s bloodied robes were tossed into a corner, and he lay bare-chested and heavily bandaged, the blankets tucked around his waist. Exhaustion lined his features, but his chest rose and fell evenly, and Fenris let out a breath he’d scarcely realized he was holding in. After watching him a few moments, the elf finally perched himself near Hawke’s side, eyeing his face for any flicker of pain. Fenris reached out and pushed an errant strand of long, brown hair behind Hawke’s ear, then traced his fingers along the darker skin below.

Shuffling noises behind him made him draw his hand back quickly. He relaxed when Orana bustled into view with an armful of wood. She walked straight to the hearth, carefully averting her gaze from the bed. Fenris’s lips quirked into the slightest of smiles. He turned back to Hawke, and hesitated only a moment before he took one of Hawke’s hands into both of his. Fenris felt the faint buzz of the lyrium on his fingers answering the hum of the magic in Hawke’s. He never thought he’d feel relieved at the sensation, though it was not unpleasant now. Not with Hawke. The man’s hand was warm, and Fenris gripped it tightly as if he could hold that warmth in place.

“Pardon me, Messere Fenris, is there anything else I can get you?”

He looked up at Orana, pursing his lips into a thin smile. “I have all that I require.”

Orana smiled in return and Fenris fought not to blush at how... _knowing_ she looked. “As you say, ser.” She walked to the door.

“Orana?”

“Yes, messere?”

Fenris bit his lip. “Thank you. Again.”

That smile again. “Master Hawke has done much for me. I wish to see him happy. And I... wish the same for you.”

She turned then and quietly shut the door behind her. A lovely girl, really. Fenris turned his gaze back to Hawke’s hand, then let it travel over the bandages along his body. He felt a pang of guilt. The duel was his suggestion. He knew Hawke would dismiss it, insist it was necessary and it was _right_ , as Fenris knew it was. Yet still, he couldn’t help feeling responsible, in part, for Hawke’s condition. Was Fenris forever to be only a source of pain?

Ah, but that was his fault alone, as Hawke had weakly pointed out before collapsing. His own choice. He let Hawke’s fingers slip gently from his and rose to stand before the fire.

Hawke tried on a few occasions to bring up the night they shared, but Fenris steadfastly refused to discuss it. It was too painful, he reasoned, and the sooner Hawke moved on and forgot about Fenris, even if it meant hating and resenting him, the better it would be for them both. At least, that was what Fenris tried to convince himself was true. It was better this way. He was foolish to look for happiness when he would always be too damaged to hold on to it. There was too much inside of himself to untangle -- the years of abuse and hurt, all the anger and memories and fears, every bitter moment of his past knotted and snarled beyond hope. He barely knew where to begin, or if he even wanted to try. It would leave him vulnerable and weak. Beyond that, the pain was familiar, in a sick way. Being angry and lonely was easier, something he knew how to be, something he knew how to bear, and it meant he wasn’t complacent. It meant he was no longer a docile slave. It meant he was free to fight, to scratch and bite and kick and flee and not care who got in the way while he did. The anger gave him purpose. The pain gave him a goal. The loneliness gave him independence.

Attraction, pleasure, these were no threat. They were salves, temporary relief -- a way to ease the burden. And so he welcomed Hawke’s attention, when it came, and even returned it. But as their relationship grew, and as he found himself allowing Hawke--no, Daniel--inch by inch within his carefully constructed walls, and closer to these raw and vulnerable places in his heart, he realized this was far more than simple attraction. And it seemed mutual. He assumed at first that Hawke was simply the flirting, charming type, but the more time they spent together, the more obvious it became that Daniel reserved that part of himself for Fenris alone. The elf was gratified. And terrified.

And then the night they shared... Fenris closed his eyes at the memory. He knew Daniel was not inexperienced, but even in the fantasies he allowed himself in the dark privacy of his own bed, he never dreamed...

That was the greatest torture of their parting. Fenris remembered every detail. Every heated touch, every kiss, every desperately sincere word Hawke whispered in his ear. No matter how often he tried to drown the memory with wine, it still haunted him, sharp and heavy, piercing and prodding him. Knowing that Hawke meant every word, that he’d even _said_ them, tore Fenris to shreds with guilt. But he could not stay. Hawke deserved someone worthy of those sentiments, someone who was not so chained by his own pain and anger that he could not freely return them, no matter how he wished to. And so Fenris resolved to bear Hawke’s hatred, if it meant the man could find the happiness he truly deserved.

_Chained..._

Fenris opened his eyes. He used the word without thinking, but now it gave him pause. Chained. By pain and anger. Chained. He thought it all familiar, and though he knew it was no way to live, he thought it a mark of freedom. But... perhaps all it was doing was re-enslaving him. His fist clenched. His whole life’s purpose had become destroying Danarius and taking revenge, and his anger consumed him, drove him, until he knew nothing else. Memories resurfacing and then instantly disappearing only fueled the bitterness, the anger with Danarius, and his frustration with the tangled mess of his life. Unsure where to fit the tender touch of a lover amongst all that, it felt safer to return to these chains of revenge. Adding these strange new feelings of affection, and maybe more, to what he already had to work through was too much, or so he thought. No matter how much he wanted Hawke, it was better for him to be alone.

But when did things ever go according to plan? Fenris looked over his shoulder to where Daniel slept. He remembered seeing him looking back from the pillows, his bare skin a warm brown in the firelight, his face all gentle understanding, always wanting to help... Fenris turned away before it could disappear. The next time he saw Hawke, he’d spent the morning steeling himself for the cold indifference he expected. The hesitant, hopeful smile and sad eyes that met him instead made Fenris want to crawl back into his broken mansion and never come out again. He tried avoiding Hawke as much as possible, half to keep from giving the man false hope, and half to keep from giving it to himself. But Hawke never stopped asking him along on his outings, never stopped trying to be friendly. Never... gave up on him.

Fenris didn’t deserve that. Daniel’s insufferably endless kindness, his willingness to fight to the very end without giving up hope... qualities that got him nothing but... _this_. Injury, pain, scars. Fenris drifted back to the bed. He wondered if his departure left the man this hurt, the bandages still fresh over his heart. Fenris reached for Daniel’s hand again.

Fenris had decided _for_ the mage that he should hate him, that it was better. But as he watched Daniel fall, the possibility of death, of Fenris truly losing him forever, very real, he realized what he should have known all along. It wasn’t better. If Daniel had died hating him, it would have been unbearable. He thought he’d been a fool to look for happiness. Now... now, Fenris knew, he’d been a fool to let it go.

He did have a lot to sort out before he could really be ready to love, and he knew he had no right to ask the man to wait for him. He didn’t dare hope he would anyway. But after all Hawke had done for him, all he’d seen and touched in him, and despite _everything_ , all the circumstances and all their differences and all of Fenris’s spikes and barbs and callouses and triggers...

Fenris squeezed Daniel’s hand. He could become the man Daniel saw in him. If not for Daniel’s sake, and Fenris reminded himself that Hawke would likely move on in the meantime, then for his own sake. And until then, he would never try to drive a wedge between them again. He would stay at Hawke’s side, as long as Hawke would have him. He drew the man’s hand to his lips and kissed it gently, then murmured something in Arcanum against Hawke's knuckles. He let go briefly to pull one of the chairs near the hearth over to the bed. Then he sat down, and took Hawke’s hand again.

 

* * * * * * *

 

Hawke woke to the sound of voices outside his door. Morning light was peeking through his curtains, and he could smell the gently smoking ashes in the hearth. He tried to sit up but regretted it immediately, pain shooting through his body. He groaned, glancing down at the bandages along his chest and arms. He tried to remember what he’d gotten himself into this time.

_Oh... the Arishok..._

The last thing he could remember was collapsing into Fenris’s arms, and the worry in the elf’s voice. Had it been... that bad?

The door opened then, and Anders swept into the room, followed closely by Orana.

“I told you he shouldn’t be left alone--”

“Oh, he wasn’t, ser! I promise! Messere Fenris stayed at his side all night, until I woke this morning.”

Anders paused, looking away from her for a moment. Hawke’s heart leapt into his throat. Fenris... watched over him? All night? He finally noticed the chair pulled to his bedside. He smiled softly.

“Oh, you’re awake! You gave us quite a scare,” Anders leaned into view, flashing him a smile before beginning to check his bandages. “How do you feel?”

Hawke’s eyes drifted back to the chair Orana was moving out of the way, and he smiled again. “Better.”


End file.
